by Lulu Pratt
Louisa eyes the photo in front of her before nodding and supplying me with the exact info I need.
“That’s Lilah Tucker, one of our newer advisors. Would you like to schedule a consultation with her, Mr.?” she asks, clicking away with her mouse as if to pull up a calendar.
“Knight, Andrew Knight.” I flash my smile as Louisa taps away on the keyboard for a few seconds.
So Lilah Tucker’s new.
That explains why I couldn’t find anything about her on their website. Now that I know her name, it’s a perfect match for her — soft and feminine. And fucking sexy as hell.
“I’d like to see her now.” My words brook no argument as I stare at her pointedly, waiting for her to spring into action.
“Of course,” she mutters before scurrying off.
***
Leaflet woman is unreadable and impossible to break. Since I’ve been in her office, she’s expertly intercepted any pass I’ve tried to make at her.
I don’t know whether to be impressed or ticked off. I think I’m a little bit of both. Most women would throw themselves at my feet the second I walk through the door, but she’d barely batted an eyelash at my presence.
Lilah’s back is ramrod straight as she rattles off something about the current market trends and why I should get started as soon as possible in order to yield the most profit.
She could be speaking Cantonese for all I care. It’s just white noise at this point as I rethink my strategy.
“Do you have any questions?” She asks in that controlled yet silky voice. A nice jolt goes straight to my groin.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” I ask, throwing caution to the wind.
She’s going to deflect, no doubt. But it’s worth a fucking shot.
“I meant about our services here at Castle.”
Her voice doesn’t waver but the red tint creeping up the flawless skin of her neck is enough for me to know that I’m getting to her.
That’s all the ammunition I need.
“Who are you dating?” My question is straightforward.
I don’t fuck women who belong to someone else. At least not anymore. It just isn’t worth the headache.
“Who said I was dating anyone?”
Lilah crosses her arms under her chest, bringing more attention to her tits. The deep V-neck of her blouse has been teasing me throughout the whole meeting but now they’re on full display.
Jesus.
Picturing my head buried between the two mounds, I shift in my seat and refocus on our current conversation.
“You keep shooting me down, Ms. Tucker, and I figure there must be a reason.”
Slouching in my chair, I run a finger over my bottom lip and focus my gaze on her.
“Have you stopped to consider that maybe I’m only interested in doing my job and nothing more? Have you also considered that even if I was interested in dating a potential client, that maybe — just maybe — you’re not my type?”
I can’t stop the smile that stretches across my face at her words.
My eyes roam over her features again and desire continues to course through me as I take her in. Stunning doesn’t even begin to cover it. That leaflet photo hadn’t done her justice.
This woman is a masterpiece and she’s definitely attracted to me. The way she just licked her lips is all the fucking proof I need. Dark brown waves brush her slender shoulders as she fixes her chocolate orbs on me.
“We’re both adults, Ms. Tucker. So let’s cut to the chase.”
She clasps her hands in front of her and waits for me to go on.
“I want you.”
An audible gasp fills the room and my grin grows wider. This is going to be fun.
“And from the way you’ve been looking at me since I walked in,” I continue languidly, “You want me, too.”
Lilah opens and closes her mouth several times trying to formulate a response before finally giving up and stares daggers at me.
Her heated glare causes a tightening in my boxers. Swearing under my breath, I ignore the urge to adjust myself right then and there.
Damn, she’s sexy when she’s pretending to be angry.
“I can’t see under your desk, but I’m willing to bet you’re squirming. You’ve looked just about ready to pounce on me since I walked through that door. It’s written all over your face, sweetheart.”
Okay, maybe I’m projecting. But I’d definitely caught a glimpse of something other than professionalism flicker across her face and I’m damn well going to run with it.
Sitting up, I lean in to finish my statement.
“I can feel it every time you look at me and hear it in your voice each time you open that pretty little mouth of yours. Deny it all you want, but you crave me just as much as I’m craving you, and I think we should do ourselves a favor and see where it leads.”
Wordlessly, Lilah grabs the bottle of Fiji near her sleek keyboard and gulps down nearly half the contents.
“I’m going to grab you a copy of some of the services I mentioned, Mr. Knight. Then you can be on your way,” she says breezily, trying her hardest to brush off our conversation.
It’s clear that she wants to take the messier route. This meeting has been nothing but a game of cat and mouse and she doesn’t look like she’s ready to surrender any time soon.
Luckily for both of us, I’m no stranger to the chase and I always capture my prey.
Three
LILAH
How the hell did I let this meeting get away from me?
I stand up too quickly to get the papers from the printer and I almost lose my balance. Unsteady on my feet, I grab a firm hold of the edge of my desk while the man seated in my guest chair smirks at me.
Damn those perfect teeth and those hypnotizing cobalt eyes.
My panties have been sticking to me since he walked into my office with that sexy swaggering gait. He’d dominated the room from the door and I knew immediately that I was in trouble.
“Are you okay? Do you need a hand?” he asks, moving as if he’s going to get up and offer me assistance.
God help me.
The worst part is that he knows he’s the cause of my distracted state and seems to be relishing in the fact.
“No!” I blurt out, holding up my hand to halt his actions. If he comes anywhere near me, I have no doubt that I’ll lose it completely.
That same smirk is resting on his lips but he remains seated.
“No, you’re not okay? Or no you don’t want me to help you?”
I hate how calm he is while I fall apart, succumbing to the lust I’d been trying to tamp down.
“Just stay right there,” I plead, swiftly making my exit from the room. My legs feel like jelly as I round the corner and finally escape his simmering gaze.
At the printer near the end of the hall, I take a few calming breaths and try to gather my scattered nerves.
Even after I’ve retrieved the stack of papers from the tray, I remain in the hall facing the wall. If any one of my coworkers were to walk by at this exact moment, they’d probably think I was crazy, staring at the wall and breathing all heavy.
But I can’t be bothered by their hypothetical opinions. I desperately need this reprieve before I have to face him again.
Andrew Knight is a problem.
A problem wrapped in beautifully tanned skin with tattoos running the length of his well-muscled arms. Veins ripple across his thick forearms. Looking at him, all I could think about back there was being pinned up against the wall while his arms rested on either side of my head, caging me in.
He is simply a masterpiece.
His features are strong and masculine but he also possesses an aristocratic air that lets me know that he’s never really had to want for anything in his life. If he thought of something he needed, it probably appeared out of thin air before he completed the thought.
Old money.
Going over his portfolio earlier had confirmed my suspicions. He’s a tru
st fund baby, an heir to the Knight clan that runs this damn town. Which explains why Louisa was practically gushing when she came into my office to tell me I had a walk-in appointment waiting in the lobby.
She barely excused herself before Andrew’s expansive shoulders were taking up the doorway and his looming presence introduced him long before he opened his mouth.
Despite his rugged bad-boy exterior, he’s richer than anyone has the right to be and now he wants my help managing it all.
No pressure.
When I took this position, I assumed my clients would be as gray and old as my grandparents. It totally slipped my mind that younger clientele might show up and turn my nerves to mush.
He must be used to women throwing themselves at his feet. It’s the only explanation for his brazen approach back there. But I’m not budging. I can’t afford any other complications in my life at the moment.
The man in my office is beyond hot. It feels like a sin to even look at him because of all the naughty thoughts that bombard my brain.
His handsome face is smooth, free from facial hair with a strong jawline. Those blue eyes are electric and perceptive as hell. It seems like they’re reading me like a book in spite of how well I’m trying to hold it together.
Having stalled long enough, I turn on my heel and head back to my office.
Andrew’s posture is relaxed when I enter, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. Somehow he still manages to look completely in control, the slouched position only adding to the air of confidence that surrounds him.
Dressed in all black, he has the appearance of someone dark and borderline dangerous. And I don’t doubt it for one second.
A short-sleeved black T-shirt is stretched across his chest and the rippling muscles of his arms. The sleeves stop in the middle of his biceps and the intricate tattoos on both arms disappear underneath. I can only imagine what the rest of the artwork looks like. His powerful legs are covered in distressed black denim and heavy black boots round out the look.
The heat of his smoldering gaze follows me until I finish rounding the desk. It takes everything I have not to topple over in front of him in these ridiculous sky-high heels.
“Here are the materials I promised.”
My voice is infused with extra cheer as I shuffle the papers against my desk before stuffing them into a folder with Castle’s discreet logo elegantly etched across the front in silver.
I strategically tuck one of my brand new business cards in the slot before extending the package to him.
After only staring at it for a few beats, Andrew reaches out to take it from me.
I await another one of his slick remarks, secretly hoping that it’s coming. I could use some fuel for my fantasies later.
But when he opens his mouth, the request that falls from his lips shocks me.
“I want to paint you, Lilah.”
Blinking, I try to process what he’s said.
Paint me?
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me,” he says, almost impatiently and something about his irritated countenance turns me on even more.
The way his heavy brows meet in the middle of his forehead while he frowns, never breaking eye contact, is mouthwatering.
Man, I need help. What the hell has gotten into me today?
But I must admit, I’m intrigued by his words.
“You’re an artist?” I can’t help the wonder that seeps into my voice.
An indecipherable expression dances across his face before he bites his bottom lip.
“Something like that,” he murmurs, and it’s the first time that smirk disappears completely.
I don’t know why I can’t leave this alone. I should be walking him out of the front door, but instead I settle into my seat and ask another question.
“And you want to paint me?”
Andrew nods.
“Like a portrait?” I ask, growing more intrigued by the second.
There’s no way I’m going to do this but the thought is gratifying. No one has ever wanted to paint me before. It seems like such an intimate exchange. I wonder if…
“No,” he says, firmly cutting into my thoughts.
“Then how?” I’m leaning forward in my chair now and I realize I’m right where he wants me.
Open and intrigued.
His lids fall over his hypnotizing eyes, until the blue depths are barely visible.
Damn, he looks good.
When he finally speaks, I’m waiting with baited breath.
“You would be the canvas, Lilah.”
Four
LILAH
I’m on my second cup of ice chips in an hour.
Andrew Knight left after slipping me his card and instructing me to give him a call if I ever felt the urge.
For any reason. At any time. Night or day.
I can’t believe those were his exact words!
Then he just got up and left, leaving me to stare at him openmouthed as he retraced his steps back to the front of the building.
Holy moly, that man is trouble.
A rush of heat warms my face when I think about how sex-starved and unprofessional I must have appeared. Tilting the cup at my lips, I replenish the ice that’s melted on my tongue.
The real kicker is that I suspect he’s related to my new boss, Edward Knight. I’m just not sure how yet. There’s no way that two men in this small ass town can have the same last name with matching astronomical wealth and not be related.
I’m still crunching away at the ice when there’s a light tap on my office door.
My eyes dart to the door and there stands the boss I was just thinking about. It’s like my thoughts conjured him up.
“Hi Mr. Knight, come in,” I smile politely, shoving the cup away from me as he waltzes in.
He doesn’t return my smile or warm greeting as he takes a seat in the chair that was vacated by the other Mr. Knight only an hour ago.
Automatically, I start searching for similarities between him and Andrew. But I come up short. They couldn’t be more different. Both in demeanor and physical appearance.
This Mr. Knight is most definitely not hot in any way. He and Andrew seem like polar opposites.
Edward’s wearing a slate-gray tailored suit with shiny shoes and dazzling cufflinks. The ensemble alone probably costs more than I earn in a year.
“I heard you had a walk-in client today,” he says, not beating around the bush.
“Yes, I was just going to email you about that,” I tell him. “I think the meeting went well. I provided him a breakdown of our services and he told me that he’d be in touch.”
“You mean he didn’t sign with you today?”
His tone is cold and a wave of dissatisfaction covers his face.
Shit.
“No, but I—” I start only for my words to be cut off.
“Ms. Tucker, because you’re here temporarily, your client base will be very small and it is your job to build it while you’re here. Since I am sending you the leads, it’s absolutely imperative that you land the people who show up. Do you understand?”
I don’t appreciate the condescending tinge to his words, but keep my displeasure concealed.
With a simple nod, I convey that I understand and he starts talking again.
“Good. Knight is a lucrative catch. Review the training materials I provided and rethink your strategy for landing him.”
“Yes, sir,” I answer dutifully, even though all I want to do is roll my eyes and fire off a litany of dirty insults.
“Do whatever it takes,” he says sternly. He rises from the chair and buttons his suit jacket. “Call me when it’s done.”
He leaves and I’m left alone in my office. I snatch up the cup of ice chips again but for a different reason this time. I no longer need to ease my sexual frustration because that’s the last thing I feel after that short exchange.
I hate being scolded but I have to remember the reason I agreed to this summer �
��apprenticeship” in the first place.
Simply put, the money will help make my dreams come true.
Nine months out of the year, I teach at a private elementary school not too far from this very office.
The salary is good, all things considered. However, I’m on the verge of bankruptcy because most of my cash is tied up in a project I’ve been trying to get off the ground for months now.
In the last four years, I’ve built an educational resource from scratch to help teachers provide special-needs students with the tools they need to succeed in the classroom.
I’ve poured my heart and soul into this project for years, determined to share my passion with the world. But it just hasn’t happened the way I planned.
Even with my extensive professional network and the small business loan from the bank, I still hit a break wall when it came to distribution.
The capital needed upfront is just something I haven’t been able to accumulate on my own.
So, I set my pride aside as school was winding down and began contacting some of the wealthiest people in my network. Asking for donations from wealthy people was humbling enough but the amount of no’s I received was soul crushing.
It was naïve of me to assume that everyone would jump on board once they heard it would benefit kids. Their faces showed no emotion when they rejected me and wished me the best of luck.
That is until I came across Edward Knight. Feeling dejected, I emailed him on a whim after receiving his contact information from a friend of a friend.
He’d been the only one willing to help me. But of course that help came with conditions.
Edward made it clear that he wanted me to “work for it,” essentially. If I could get through a three-month apprenticeship at Castle, he would fork up a quarter-million dollars for my project, Thriving Together, at the end of the summer.
And I can see right now that every penny will be hard-fought.
Cooling down from our brief meeting, I reach for my phone and view the picture serving as my lock screen.
